


home and safety

by lipsstainedbloodred



Series: apocalypse now [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Daisy Centric, Gen, Hunt!Daisy, M/M, post episode 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsstainedbloodred/pseuds/lipsstainedbloodred
Summary: When Daisy's Hunt is finished she goes to find the Archivist.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: apocalypse now [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600105
Comments: 17
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

She’s been watching them for several days, trailing along behind inside shadows not so dark as to be mistaken for Darkness but dark enough to hide her massive, hulking form. Jonathan Sims is so much smaller than she remembers, swallowed up by sweaters, a torn piece of shirt cloth wrapped around his face in an attempt to smother the blinding light of the eyes that pour from him. He does not stumble when he walks, knows exactly what paths to avoid to keep them as safe as life, keeps a hand tucked safely inside the one belonging to Martin Blackwood. They almost smell the same now. 

It is so effortless to catch them unawares. 

It’s Jon that jolts awake first, head swinging back and forth wildly, light flickering beneath the makeshift blindfold showing the path of darting eyes. All of them lock on her, and it feels much the same as the sky outside, every part of her torn open and on display. 

She shifts her massive shoulders, the bones popping and cracking like something unearthly, and takes a step toward him.

“Daisy?” His breath catches in his throat.

The Archivist stares at her in terrified awe.

She takes another step forward, the floor groaning under the weight of her. She can hear his heart beat, the rush of blood under his skin, so rabbit-prey quick that she can almost forget the smell of him is like Home. Almost. She huffs a breath across his face, warm and rancid, copper-scented like blood. He shivers under her, so frail and small. It would be infinitely easy to hurt him, easier still to kill him.

Beside him Martin shifts, grumbling and half on the verge of waking. 

“Wha- what-” Static crackles around his voice. Her stomach swoops at the pull. She growls, low and rumbling, and that is enough to quiet him. He trails off into a whimper.

There are new scars on his arm, freshly healed and still bloody, though the look old. Something rip-and-tear like claw marks. She wants to taste his blood on her tongue. She presses her muzzle into his shoulder, blood-stained and dirt-encrusted, presses her nose into his neck and breathes.

“Ah- ah-” He gasps. Small hands press into the bulk of her side like he could push her away. Those fragile little fingers that would snap so easy under the press of her teeth, she could keep them there inside her forever. “Are you going to kill me?” 

She huffs a breath that is so much like laughter. 

“Jon?” Martin mumbles, hand fumbling at the man’s waist. 

“Martin it’s-” Jon’s breath hitches, “It’s okay. Just- just go back to sleep.”

Martin hums and rolls over, taking the blankets with him. Jon doesn’t need them, his skin is fever hot. 

She pushes with her massive head until the Archivist is sprawled back against the floor again. Then she shifts her body to lay next to him. She is spackled with gore, no part of her clean, but she feels born again back by Jon’s side at last.

Jon, her Archivist, her  _ friend _ . The one that smells like Home and Safety.

“You’re- you’re not, are you?” Jon whispers, stunned, “You-”

She has not spoken in months, doesn’t even know if she has vocal cords that could anymore, but she tries her best. “Shhhhh.”

“Okay, I-” He swallows, lets her press the weight of herself into his precious small frame, “Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _ Jesus Christ _ -” 

“Shh, Martin, shh, it’s okay-”

“Fucking  _ hell  _ Jon, I mean-”

“It’s alright, shh, keep your voice down.”

“ _ Keep my voice down _ !”

Her ears perk and swivel toward the sound of bickering voices. Jon, fearful though making an attempt at calm. Martin, half hysterical and making no such attempt. He smells like bitter, rotten fear and it makes her sneeze. The two voices break into silence, hearts pounding solid quick and true like massive drum beats. She lifts her head to regard Martin Blackwood. 

Broad, solid, and tall. Built like a fighter, if not for the soft roll of fat about his middle. He would not break as easily under her teeth as her Archivist would, but all bones splinter with enough pressure. The rumble that pushes past her throat is the closest she’s come to laughter in months.

Martin tenses, his hand turning white knuckled where he’s gripped Jon’s arm. Mist swirls low and thick around their feet, nipping at their ankles. She’s not sure Martin even knows that he’s doing it, if he can even control it. Regardless it makes her growl low in her chest. 

She finally has her Jon back, and she’s not letting him go without a fight.

Jon’s hand drops from Martin’s face to his chest, pushing lightly. Just the barest of touches and Martin lets go as though he’d been shoved. The mist swirls up their calves, brushing at their thighs. 

“It’s just Daisy,” Jon says, “she’s not- she won’t hurt us.” The end lilts upward like a question. Light roves under his clothes, the cloth wrapped snugly around his face. All of his eyes flickering back and forth between hunter and lover. Each time they land on her it feels like a blade. It feels like a kiss. 

She raises herself up onto all four legs. The floor moans beneath her in protest, wood buckling and creaking. At full height her head reaches Martin’s shoulder and for once in his life he is not the biggest thing in the room. Mist swirls at her feet, colder than ice, but she pushes forward past Jon. Her shoulder bumps him out of the way and his small hand tangles into her fur unthinkingly. 

For a long time she stares at Martin Blackwood and he stares back.

“Oh.” He says finally, “her eyes…”

All at once the cold recedes like the tide, the mist disappearing in the cracks in the floor. 

“Yeah.” Jon whispers.

“You are- You’re really…” Martin lifts his hand, trembling and clumsy, to her muzzle. “Hello, Daisy."

She huffs a warm breath in his face and grins at the wrinkle of his nose.

Martin swallows. “So, n-now what?”

_ Basira _ , She thinks, directing it at Jon as best she can. She has to try. She has to-

Jon’s hand tightens in her fur. “B-Basira,” He says, “We have to find Basira.”

_ Yes,  _ She bares her teeth and snarls,  _ Yesyesyes _

“Okay,” Martin says, his voice shaken. He looks at Jon wide-eyed. “Then I guess we best get started.”


End file.
